


Candlelight

by RhineGold



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Drugging, M/M, ike accidentally a whole rape, soren is a tortured soul, stefan is evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29713881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhineGold/pseuds/RhineGold
Summary: Stefan tricks Ike into committing the ultimate sin against his best friend. Ike has no idea what is going on, and soon, Soren doesn't either.
Relationships: Ike/Senerio | Soren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Candlelight

**Author's Note:**

> An ancient fill from the [Fire Emblem Kink Meme](https://ooh-shinies.livejournal.com/523.html?thread=712203#t712203%22). My very first kink meme fill ever. (wipes single tear)
> 
> The Prompt:  
>  _Ike/Soren_
> 
> _Non-con, with Ike being the rapist. Ike believing they're so much more while Soren simply believes them to close friends._
> 
> _Pleasepleaseplease have Ike not believing it at all when Soren says no and fights to get away. Like, put him in complete denial of the situation, and make him still believe that Soren wants it just as much as he does._
> 
> _BEXP for Ike drugging Soren with an aphrodisiac, but please still make sure Soren knows what is going on._
> 
> _...Yes, I'm a sick, twisted person..._
> 
> ...and so I did my best (worst).

Ike stared at the man, unblinking, unsure why one hand had just crept to the edge of his sword. “…And you’re positive… about this…?” He said finally, his voice sounding thick to his ears.

“He told me so himself, Commander. I see no reason why he would lie about it.”

“But…” Ike turned away, running a hand through his messy bangs, trying to process this. He ran through days, weeks, and years in his head, cross-referencing the life lived against the information given. While he could see no apparent truth in it, nor could he find any faults. His staff-officer was secretive and gruff, cold to others, but no colder than to himself, and it would certainly be like Soren to keep a secret like this.

He turned back, as helplessly lost in thought as a besotted teenager. “He really said he wanted me to…?”

The man nodded, a wry smile playing at his lips, his eyes amused, but sympathetic. “He knew you wouldn’t be too keen to believe me, so he wrote you this note.” He held it out between them, a folded piece of the heavy parchment, the kind on which Soren painstakingly recorded troop calculations and supply accounts.

His hands moving quickly to cover the shaking, Ike yanked it out of his hands and read it over. There, in Soren’s precise but delicate handwriting, it said, _“Ike. I have thought many times about how I would tell you this, but it was never the right moment, and I was never certain how this information would be received. The real reason I went to the capital to study… No, really, it began far before that. I have known it for some time, but I did not wish to know. Oh, I hate this. This is stupid. Stefan knows all about me, Ike, and I’m sure he could explain it much more eloquently than I. I don’t think I’ll ever tell you. I’ll probably just throw this away and pretend that nothing has changed, and that I’m just the same as I’ve always been. If there’s any luck in this world, you’ll continue believing that. I couldn’t bear it otherwise. I care for you too much to burden you with my secrets. But if you knew that all the things Stefan would tell you are true, would you still look on me with the same eyes?”_ The pen had streaked across the paper angrily, and the parchment had been crumpled as if to be tossed away.

“I convinced him not to toss it out, and to let me run the mediation between the two of you.” Stefan said. “He’ll never admit to it himself, and he knows it, so I’m here to let him hide behind me.”

“Why? Why couldn’t he come to me with this?”

“He is afraid of you.” At Ike’s expression, he held up his hands placating. “Now, now! That’s not really what I meant. He’s afraid of himself. You know Soren – all doom and gloom; hard on everyone, but hardest on himself. He thinks he doesn’t belong here, doesn’t deserve to be as happy as he is with all of you – with you, Commander. That’s why he’s doing this, and why he wants it this way. It’s to protect himself from feeling like he’s being foolish or… or wanton.”

His final word made Ike blush and look away again, the hand pawing through his hair a second time. Briefly, his imagination teases him with an image of Soren, stiff, prim Soren, being wanton. The leap in his loins surprises him. This is not some soft, fancy princess, or a sultry, seasoned lady he is thinking about. This is Soren. “But what he’s asking is… It would be like… r…”

“IF!” Stefan is quick to interject, “If it were not a game, and an understanding between both parties – which it is!”

Ike looks down again at the note, crumpled again in his fist. _I care for you too much to burden you with my secrets…_ “…He loves me.”

“Perhaps. But more importantly, Commander, he wants you. Why not play his game, his way, and seek mutual satisfaction? I know you care for him, and he for you. It will satisfy you both and bring you… closer together. Once he sees that you can accept him and his… little quirks… I’m sure he’ll realize he doesn’t have to be afraid of pursuing you more… traditionally.”

“But what he’s asking for is… terribly…”

“Kinky, isn’t it? I never would have guessed it from looking at him. I wonder what other sorts of things he learned away at school.” Stefan smirked, crossing his arms.

“Hey!” Ike said, snapping to disguise his reddening face as anger.

“Well, I’ve said my piece, sir. I’ll just leave the bag here on the table. He said the green one is for him, the red one for you. It’s supposed to help relax you both and give you energy.” He winked at Ike. “Not that you’d need it, Commander. A big strong lad like you. Perfectly virile. I’m sure his concerns were causeless.”

“Concerns?”

“That’s why he found the herbs, sir. He’s afraid what he believes to be his selfish request will tire you out to much to perform as a commander should. It’s a little natural kick-start, made from a flower. That way he won’t feel so guilty.”

As Stefan turned to excuse himself from the tent, Ike called him back. He stood there, facing the tent flap still, his shoulders quirking to attention, as though anticipating a strike. Ike strung his scattered thoughts into words, “Why did he tell you all this, then?”

He turned to smile at him crossing his arms over his chest again, “Because I am outside your merry family, Commander, and I imagine that made it less embarrassing. Plus, Soren and I are… kindred spirits. We recognize something in one another, a special fire the two of us share. Quite frankly, Commander, if you are unwilling to play his game, I might consider volunteering myself.”

“No, no… I’ll… Tell him I’ll think on it, and I’ll come to see him later tonight.”

Stefan nodded, bowing slightly. “As you wish, Commander.”

~*~

Soren scowled at the little stub of a candle on his makeshift desk as it flickered and spluttered out, wick drowned in its own hot wax. Having taken up residence in a old salt shed on the abandoned farm they camped at, he was at once pleased to have real thatch over his head and vexed at having to deal with the drafts from the kinks in the brick.

He briefly considered walking over to the supply wagons and finding a fresh stick, but he dismissed it. It wouldn’t do to waste candles when there was no guarantee they would have the money or the means to replace them for some time. Instead, he rummaged beside him to pull out a Blizzard tome. Touching the book with one hand, he recited a small spell, feeling the tendrils of frosty air swirl in the fingers of his free hand. The stub of wax cooled and hardened in his hand, and he put the tome away. Using a letter opener, he carved the wick out of the wax again and relit it using a match, not wanting to risk the thatch overhead with any larger of a flame.

Frowning, he returned to his papers, going over the performance reports of the previous day’s light skirmish, trying to determine how their rag-tag army had profited from it. Eight stores of grain and three chests of gold had been recovered, but once one factored in the Company’s pay and upkeep, it wasn’t too impressive of a haul. _If we are going to keep feeding Sothe, he must learn to get to the chests before the enemy does. I recommend paying him half the wages until he starts doing more than half the work…_ He shook his head, knowing Ike would say something about growing boys needing food most of all, or some other such nonsense, and ignore his recommendation.

He looked up, surprised, when the battered wooden door creaked, before opening to reveal Ike. “Commander!” He said, his pen scratching across the page ( _waste of ink, idiot!_ he snapped at himself). “I haven’t actually finished the budget report just yet. I planned to bring it to your tent tomorrow morning after breakfast.”

“What? No. I didn’t come about the report. I… uh…” Ike looked around the narrow shed thoughtfully. “I love what you’ve done with the place?” Soren had built a small pallet of straw in one corner, and unfurled his bedroll upon it in a make-shift bed. The desk, constructed of planks stacked atop one another and lashed with a bit of leather cord, took up most of the space, and Soren had tacked various robes and cloaks to the walls to cover the drafty spaces and trap in some of the heat. “It’s nice.”

“I hate tents.” Soren said curtly. He tapped the quill against the ink well experimentally, before setting it to paper again. “It’s nice to have a roof over my head for a change.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry about that. You know it’s best if we keep on the move and off the beaten path. Not a lot of houses up here in these mountains. We were lucky to find this farm here while we rest.”

“I know that. It was an observation, Commander, not a registered complaint.”

“Soren, I… uh…” Ike stared at his back, watching the way his hair shifted in the candle light as he continued to write. It was strange, to suddenly realize that someone you’d seen your entire life was actually kind of pretty, he thought. Soren looked sort of like a girl, he knew. He’d always known that, always smacked Boyd or anyone else who pointed it out. But now that he was thinking about it… He wondered how much like a woman Soren really was, and how different. He swallowed, realizing he had come here to find out. “Hey, come sit with me for a while. I brought us something to drink.”

The mage turned on his stool to look at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “But… the reports…”

“They’ll keep till morning. Maybe I can actually sleep in for a change, knowing you won’t be poking around my tent flap at first light.” Ike reddened, realizing the implication to his words and plunked down on the rug thrown over the stone floor, where Soren had made a sort of sitting space.

Still looking at him suspiciously, Soren followed him into the floor, and crossed his legs to sit across from him. “Wine?” He asked, his voice critical. “Where did you find that?”

“One of the people we helped a few towns ago gave it to me, as a thanks. I didn’t… I don’t really drink it, but I figured I’d save it for something special.” He turned away from Soren, pulling two wooden mugs out of his rucksack. With shaking hands, he managed to pour the contents of the green bottle into one, before covering it with a generous helping of the wine.

“What’s special about today?” Soren asked, taking the mug with both hands, frowning at the odd-smelling liquid inside.

“Nothing, yet.” Ike said cryptically, pouring a second mug for himself. Adding the liquid from the red vial, he sighed in relief, settling back against the stone wall, the chill of it muffled by one of Soren’s black cloaks. He realized the whole room smelled strongly of Soren, surprising him with the knowledge that Soren had a distinct scent, and that he knew it. He tried to kill his nervousness by taking a large gulp of the wine. It didn’t taste like beer at all, but it was sweet before it was bitter, and it wasn’t unpleasant.

“Well?” He said. “Go on – drink it. It’s not half-bad, actually.”

Soren wrinkled his nose and lifted the mug to his lips, coughing violently after the first swig. “This tastes horrible. It’s like eating fruit with poison in it.”

“It’s not poisoned, Soren.” Ike said, a trifle too sternly. “It’s just alcohol. Come on, didn’t you try anything in that City of yours?”

“We shouldn’t have even opened it.” He said sourly. “We could have sold or traded it to finance the war effort. You know we’re going to need new lances and hand axes soon, and we’re not making the kind of gold that’s going to…”

“ _Soren_.” Ike’s voice was firm and startling in its volume. “Can we just shut up about the war for a few minutes? I came to talk to you.”

“Fine. Yes. I’m sorry.” Soren took another experimental drink of the wine. It wasn’t as tart this time, and he discovered he actually liked the fruity taste, if not the strange, metallic aftertaste. “But you know we spend too much money on things like shoes for the Pegasi… They’re flying, why do they need shoes anyway?” He griped.

“Soren. I mean it. No more work.” Ike leaned forward, staring at him strangely, drinking deeper out of his mug.

The green-haired mage looked up at him, confused by his scrutiny. He touched the fingers of one palm to his bangs, moving them as if to cover the mark on his forehead self-consciously. “Ike…?” He asked, voice wavering slightly.

The blue-haired man drained his mug, staring at his wrapped palms, closed around the wood, worn smooth by countless hands over countless years. “…I was talking to Stefan today…” Ike said softly.

Soren’s eyes widened and he sat up straight, clutching the mug with both hands again, as if it grounded him to the world. “…Stefan… Oh. Whatever about?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice shook and he sounded like a child caught stealing instead. He took a huge gulp of his wine, finishing the rest of it, nearly choking as he swallowed.

“He said you… that you have a secret you’ve been keeping from me. He told me what to do about it…”

“Oh.” Soren’s mind tried to race, to come up with an excuse, a defense, a justification for the lies and the way he had betrayed his adoptive family by pretending and just by _being_. “Ike, I… I can explain. I didn’t want you to… I never meant to…”

“Shh…” Ike let go of the mug, going onto his knees to lean towards him. He reached for the other young man’s face, thumb tracing over his lower lip as he lifted his head. “…How have I never noticed it before?” He whispered, looking into his eyes, gaze flickering over his face to take it in, including the Mark.

Soren chuckled humorlessly, his voice breathy and shaking. “What was there to notice? I tried to hide it very well. I hoped I’d never have to tell anyone.”

“But why, Soren? You didn’t have to. You don’t have to be alone. I understand. I think… I think I feel the same way about you, honestly…”

“You… you do…?” Soren’s face quirked in confusion. “…Wait, what? Feel the same as what, exactly?”

“Shh…” Ike repeated, tugging on his chin to pull him into a kiss. It was not clumsy and inexperienced, since Ike had done a fair share of kissing in his spare time. He wrapped one hand up in Soren’s hair, turning and tilting back his head to meet his own more easily. His other hand came to rest on the smaller man’s thigh, massaging him lightly.

Soren opened his mouth in shock, startled further by the wet tongue that invaded thereafter. He stared up at Ike in surprise, before his eyelids fluttered closed under his ministrations, until the other man twisted his palm on his scalp for a more comfortable grip that pulled his hair.

When Ike finally pulled away, Soren gasped for breath, clutching at his shirt for support, pushing himself up, away from Ike. “Wha… Ike… What are you doing?!”

“…Giving you what you want…” Ike whispered, kissing along his neck lightly, before following the same path with the edge of his teeth.

Soren yelped, hands clenching tighter on his tunic. “What I… Ike, wait… I didn’t…”

“It’s okay. Stefan told me all about it. I understand why you want it this way; you don’t have to be embarrassed. I even used the vials, like you wanted me to.”

“The… the vials? You used… In the… the wine?” Soren gasped as Ike bit lightly, but firmly into the flesh of his throat, just above the collarbone.

Ike followed this with sucking kisses, nodding. He couldn’t believe how good Soren tasted, how wonderful he smelled. The way he was holding onto his shirt and the soft noises he made were turning him on immensely, and he wondered how he could have been blind to this chance for so long.

Soren pushed weakly against his chest, his arms shaking. Ike had drugged him. He felt hot and cold at the same time, quivering in the other man’s arms. His strength, what little he had in comparison to Ike, seemed gone completely. He shoved himself back when Ike palmed one hand over his chest, the broad hand spanning nearly the whole width of his ribs. He tried to cry out in dismay when his legs wouldn’t hold him, but the sound came out too much like a moan. Ike took this as a sign to push him onto his back, his warm, strong hands sliding down Soren’s sides to the hem of his tunic. The hands hesitated a moment at his waist, and then they were under his tunic, under his shirt, smoothing across his cool, hairless chest. Soren surged towards that warmth, and then, with a cry, tumbled himself away, slapping weakly at Ike’s hands. It was warm, it was nice, and his body was screaming at him to burrow in that warmth, but… he snarled at himself, at his weakness, telling himself that this is Ike, IKE, of all people, and he shouldn’t… “Stop, I… I can’t… I don’t… Ike, no…”

Ike chuckled, hugging him closer, hands slipping around his sides until they were wrapped around him, pulling them even closer together. “You don’t have to be ashamed of it, Soren… No one would begrudge us… They know we’ve been so close all these years… We don’t have to play it like this.”

“Play… it… Ike…?” Soren’s voice died as he was tumbled over onto his stomach. He clutched at the edge of the rug, eyes widening as Ike untied the cloth sashes binding his tunic, pulling the wool garment away, leaving him in his white shirt and breeches. He tried to crawl away, but was stopped by the weight of Ike’s hands and the weakness in his limbs. “No, Ike, no! We shouldn’t… Please, Ike, we’re friends… Don’t…”

The voice in his ear was husky, the mirth alien. “I think we’re going to be a bit more than that, Soren… Just relax. I’ll do all the work.” With that, the hands were on his breeches, unfastening them.

Soren turned, hair flying over his shoulder as he looked at Ike, eyes huge, mouth wide with dismay. “IKE!” He cried out when one hand stole into his undergarments, wrapping around his half-hard erection. Soren collapsed back against the floor again, gasping and whimpering as Ike tugged his boots and breeches away with his free hand.

Once he was naked from the waist down, Ike was touching him again, hands on his chest and sides, running up and down his arms, and then his legs. Soren resumed his attempts to crawl away again, kicking at him with his bare legs, doing more damage to himself than to Ike.

The blue-haired man chuckled and grabbed his hair, twisting his head back until their mouths could meet. The hand on Soren’s penis returned, pumping him firmly and steadily as Ike ground his still-clothed arousal against the smooth curve of his rear. Soren cried out when he came suddenly, his head dropping awkwardly in Ike’s grip, pulling painfully on his hair. He lay there, gasping, ashamed to have come all over the other man’s hand, and frightened by the length he could feel pressing against him.

When Ike released his hair, he swung around on him, slapping and clawing at him, screaming for Ike to let him go and leave him alone. Ike looked startled for a moment, and then caught his thin wrists in his strong hands. Rummaging beside them, Ike picked up the discarded sashes, looping one around his wrists, binding them quickly and efficiently, leaving a length he could hold on to. The second, white sash, he tied over Soren’s eyes, disorienting him further, reasoning this would make him easier to control. Soren shuddered, struggling against the bindings, begging Ike to take them off. The blue-haired man reached down to fondle Soren again, whistling appreciatively when he discovered that the young man was still hard. “You like this, don’t you…?” He whispered, voice husky with wonder and arousal.

“No, I…! I don’t! Please!”

“Shhh…. It’s okay. You don’t have to be embarrassed, Soren. I’ll give you what you want. It’s not bad. It’s actually… Well, it’s actually pretty arousing, to be honest.”

“ _I do not like this_!”

“Of course you don’t.” Ike pressed himself against Soren’s back, his hips settling behind the mage’s, and he sighed as he ground against him. “You’re so pretty, Soren. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that before. You’re pretty as any girl I’ve ever seen, and you’re not as delicate, or as pushy.” He chuckled, delivering a sucking kiss to Soren’s earlobe, “Well… maybe just pushy in a good way. And you are pretty delicate… not rough… nice and smooth…” He ran his hands under Soren’s shirt, pinching and rubbing his nipples, making Soren hiss and buck beneath him. “And you’re so sensitive… Have you ever done it, Soren? Someone from the Company, or from your school?”

“No, I… I… what…? Stop it, Ike, please! Don’t…”

“Good. I don’t want anyone else touching you. I don’t like sharing, Soren. Not something like this.” He reached down and unfastened his own breeches, groaning as his length spilled out. He pumped his own cock a few times, wondering if he had ever been this hard. The sight of Soren’s legs splayed in front of him, his pert little body so appealing, slick with sweat from moving under him, was better than he could ever have guessed.  
“How did we go so long without doing this?” He wondered, feeling for the other vial he’d brought with him, “These past few years would have been so much easier… I should have stopped trying to peek on Titania in her room and just come to yours…”

“What?!” Soren’s squawk of desperate confusion became one of fright when one of Ike’s fingers traced a path across his entrance, breeching him ever-so-slightly. “Ike!”

“Shh… I’ll be gentle. I won’t do it rough unless you tell me.”

“I don’t want you to do it at all!” Soren wailed.

Ike stopped for a moment, as though considering his words. Soren turned to look at him blindly, unable to see for the cloth, his hair slithering off his shoulder, throwing him off-balance for a moment. Disoriented, he collapsed down on his elbows, bumping awkwardly into Ike. The young Commander took this as an invitation rather than an accident, and he laughed. “You’re good at this, Soren. I never thought of you as an actor, but I guess bluffing is part of strategy, right?”

“---!” Soren’s attempt at protest died when Ike thrust a finger into him, knuckle deep. He cried out, collapsing down onto the rug, whimpering.

“Too much? Did I hurt you?”

“No, Ike… please… please…”

“Hush, Soren… Don’t cry. It’ll feel good in a minute. That’s why you took the potion, remember? To help you relax. So just… let it happen…”

 _Let it happen_ , Soren thought bitterly, wishing he could make his clumsy tongue respond to his mind. He screamed inside for Ike to stop, but his body and his voice betrayed him, producing a breathy moan that sounded wanton even to his own ears. “Ike-! Please-!”

Massaging the rest of the bottle onto his shaft, Ike groaned, skating his teeth over Soren’s back, growling against the muscles there. Sliding up the smaller man’s body, he refit himself over him, one hand squeezing his hip possessively as the other guided the tip of his penis into the small opening.

Soren screamed as Ike penetrated him. This was not a scream of pleasure, but of something terrible. Clamping one hand over his mouth, Ike leaned down against him, bringing more of his weight to bear, sinking into him as gently, but as quickly as he could, hoping to get the worst over with so Soren would stop screaming. He could feel his small teeth and hot breath smothering against his palm, but he didn’t let go, for fear the sound would carry and someone would come to investigate. Soren would never live down another Company member walking in on them having sex, he reasoned.

Eventually, Soren’s cries died away, leaving only the hot breath against his palm. Keeping his hand over his mouth, Ike began to thrust in and out of him, groaning at how tight the other man’s body was. This felt very different than the village girls he had fooled around when he was younger – it wasn’t very wet, but it was hot and constricted around his erection far more. He began to thrust harder, clutching Soren’s chin in his hand tighter, bowing the mage under his weight as he grunted against him.

Soren whimpered with each thrust, his traitorous erection brushing the rough rug with each stroke. He shook and quailed under Ike, praying that it would be over, or that they grey on the edge of his vision would overcome him and allow him to faint. It hurt, what Ike was doing to him – it made his whole lower boy ache from the pressure on his spine. He thought of the time a myrmidon had slipped around Titania’s horse and slashed him with his sword – that wound had felt wet and slippery and raw, but this one felt hard and concentrated, blunt instead of sharp, and far too dry. He sobbed into Ike’s hand, biting at it in an effort not to cry out anymore.

Finally, Ike seemed to notice his neglect, and reached down to touch him. Soren surged backwards, thrusting himself onto Ike hard as he tried to buck into his hand. _No, stop_! he screamed in his mind, but his body ignored it, pushing back against Ike. He could hear himself moaning with each movement of Ike’s palm across his erection, and he sobbed harder in humiliation. His whole body tensed up as a muscle in his leg screamed, and when it relaxed, he collapsed forward, face pressing hard to Ike’s hand as he erupted over the other man’s hand a second time. Starved for air against Ike’s skin, he panted desperately, fainter still.

Ike growled again, releasing his mouth to wrap both hands around his hips. He sat back, lifting Soren with him, pulling him back against his body as he thrust his own hips upwards, thrusting into him harder now. Soren shook his head from side-to-side weakly, his bound wrists clenched up to his own chest as he mewled weakly each time he pounded into him. Ike muffled his shout by grinding his teeth down against Soren’s back, wringing another high-pitched sound from him as he finished.

When Ike regained his senses, he realized he was still bent over Soren, clutching him tightly. Carefully, he loosened his grip, finger-by-finger. The smaller mage collapsed to the floor, making no sound as he pulled free of Ike’s sticky, softening penis. He stiffened when Ike snuggled up behind him, spooning him to his chest. “…hey…” He whispered, nuzzling the dark red bruise on Soren’s throat, eliciting a gasp. “Are you all right?”

Soren concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths, knowing it would serve no one to scream.

“Soren…? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Ike reached up to tug the blindfold free, making him wince as the knot caught in his hair. “Did you like your game?”

“…game…” Soren said weakly, closing his eyes against the light. Even the weak candlelight hurt after so intense a period of darkness.

“Yeah. Did I do it all right? Stefan said you were very particular about how you wanted it done.”

“…You… It…” Soren opened his eyes and stared at the thatched roof ceiling, reminding himself not to scream. “…It was perfect.”

“Great.” Ike smiled, burying his face in Soren’s hair. “I’m happy. I meant it, you know. I don’t know why we didn’t do this sooner. I’m glad we know now.”

“…Glad…” Soren echoed.

On the rough, make-shift desk, the candle flickered out, drowned again in its own wax.

~*~

“No hard feelings?” Stefan said lightly, arms behind his head as though stretching.

Soren said nothing, pulling the cloak tighter around his face, turning once to look back at the sleeping camp.

“I had to do it, you know. To show you what he was. What they all were. That’s no place for someone like you. You’ll be happier with me, and safer too. I will never hurt you like he did, Soren. I swear.”

He looked at the other man then, eyes dark with emotion, but he said coldly, “No… I don’t think you ever will.” Shivering, Soren strode ahead of him down the path, wondering if he would finally be warm in the desert.


End file.
